


Labyrinth

by CS_WhiteWolf



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Criminal Minds style case fic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Abuse of Children, Other, Post-Inception, and end up working for the FBI, extraction on a serial killer, references to Greek mythology, the one where they all get burned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4067041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CS_WhiteWolf/pseuds/CS_WhiteWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His phone rang a third time. </p><p>Eames frowned but reached out. Three calls in a row might be something more urgent than a job, and he'd hate if it were him on the other end of a line no one wanted to answer.</p><p>"Eames," he answered curtly.</p><p>"It's Cobb." Came the answer. "I've got a job for you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Labyrinth

The call came in at nine twenty nine. Eames let his eyes sweep almost lazily across the illuminated screen. _Unknown Number_. He threw a few more notes onto the table, and wet his mouth with a sip of whiskey. The screen dimmed momentarily as he missed the call before instantly lighting up again. Same _Unknown Number_ flashing across the screen. He tapped lightly against the answer call button, not entirely sure he wanted to take on a another job quite yet. He'd just finished up one in dreary London of all places that had overextended by a month and which now saw him sitting in some seedy little B &B slash pub in Newport, Wales in a bid to lie low until he could feasibly flee the country. God, he hated Britain. 

His screen dimmed again. Eames took another sip of his drink and turned his eyes to the table before him once more. A semi-friendly poker game between the locals he'd been invited to join in on. The play was for peanuts but it was something to do till he got himself somewhere else.

His phone rang a third time. 

Eames frowned but reached out. Three calls in a row might be something more urgent than a job, and he'd hate if it were him on the other end of a line no one wanted to answer.

"Eames," he answered curtly.

 _"It's Cobb."_ Came the answer. _"I've got a job for you."_

Eames' frown deepened, belying his surprise at hearing from Cobb at all, never mind for a job of all things. He distinctly remembered telling Cobb to lose his number after their last one together. Success or not, Eames wasn't a fan of being screwed over whatever the intention. Didn't matter that he'd have done the same thing in Cobb's position, of course.

"I thought you were out of business?" He threw a handful of notes onto the table before grabbing up his meagre winnings and waving at the four burly men he'd been sitting with, signaling his intention to leave. 

_"This is a favour."_

"For who?" Barely acknowledged by his fellow players (who'd obnoxiously been speaking in Welsh all evening), Eames turned from the table and made his way across the bar towards the back stairs that lead up towards the bedrooms.

 _"A friend."_ Was the clipped reply.

Eames rolled his eyes to himself. "What's the job?" 

_"Extraction, two layers. I need you back in the US, Virginia-"_

Eames was listening with half an ear and almost missed the crackling click that sounded from Cobb's end of the line. 

"Son of a-" he cursed, not sparing Cobb another second to talk as he dropped his phone on the staircase, stamping heavily atop the flimsy plastic covering and crushing it beneath the heel of his shoe. He kept walking, picking up his speed as he rushed up to his room, unlocking and relocking the door in haste before diving into the bathroom. He pulled the lid off the top of the toilet and reached into the septic tank for the waterproof bag he'd stuffed inside- passports, various currencies, a burner phone, his gun and ammo. He grabbed it and left, picking up the go bag he hadn't unpacked from beside the door and stuffing the wet waterproof inside before hightailing it out of the B&B via the back door. 

The rain had lessened but still fell as a light drizzling mist. The clear night sky brought the evening its chill and Eames shivered in his shirtsleeves as he kept to the alleyway behind the pub. He'd left his damned jacket hanging over his chair. There was another in his bag, of course, but no time to rummage through that just yet.

Damn Cobb. Damn him to hell and back. As if screwing them over on the Inception job hadn't been bad enough. Oh, he'd recognised that sound, that crackling click, almost too soft a sound to be recognised except by the most paranoid of them. The line was being tapped. He'd fucken sold him out. To whom, he didn't know but he was damn well going to find out. 

When he was far enough away from the pub, and the streetlights started to become fewer and fewer the further away from the main town he walked, Eames allowed himself to stop just long enough to grab out another of his suit jackets as well as his burner and gun, the latter of which he stuffed down the back of his trousers. 

He typed in the message forwarding number that he knew would get him through to Arthur. 

Eventually.

Sometimes it took days before Arthur called back.

He left only one word as a message: _darling_.

Aside from being endearing (or taunting, depending on the situation), it let Arthur know exactly who was calling without either of their names having to be mentioned. 

He slipped the phone into his front pocket and gave himself a half hour before he'd have to ditch this one too. 

In the meantime, hijacking a car seemed like a reasonably smart thing to do. If he could make it down to Cardiff, lose himself amongst the crowd there. Shit. He'd have to get online, check if his passport (all of them) had been flagged. God damnit. He was going to kill Cobb. 

His phone rang. Eames jumped, burning his fingers on the spark of wires he was messing with. The car came to life with a loud rumble and, triumphantly, Eames released the handbrake, jammed his foot on the accelerator, and drove off just slowly enough so as to be seen obeying the speed limit. Technically. He'd make it a couple of towns over before dumping the car.

He fished the phone from his pocket.

"Darling, have you spoken to Cobb recently?" He asked without preamble.

_"You're lucky you're still the only one who calls me that."_ The sound of Arthur's voice was a relief. 

"Answer the question," he insisted instead of launching into his usual game of cat and mouse with Arthur over why he was calling. 

_"Why?"_ The exasperation in Arthur’s initial tone was quickly replaced with wariness.

"Has he called you?" He demanded only for Arthur to remain stubbornly silent. Eames cursed, loudly.

"He's just called me," he explained as Arthur remained resolutely quiet on the other end, "the line was tapped. I've been burned."

Arthur was quiet another moment, before: _"About a half hour ago.”_ He finally answered, voice clipped. Eames could hear the rustle of his clothes. _“Something about a job. He wouldn't explain. Told me to get to Virginia as soon as."_

"It's a trap." He bit at his lips, picturing Arthur moving about whatever space he was in, grabbing up his life as efficiently as Eames had done. Arthur didn't ask him if he was sure. They were all smart enough to act first.

Arthur suddenly swore and Eames nearly slammed on the breaks as he heard what sounded like a door being smashed in, thundering boots, and a myriad of shouting voices: 

_FBI!_

_FBI, put your hands up!_

_Drop the phone! Put your hands up now!_

_He's armed! Put the gun down!_

_"It would appear that you were right,"_ Arthur said, voice tight. Eames exhaled heavily through his nose. _"Lose the phone, Mr Eames."_

His words were followed by the sharp thud of his phone as it hit the floor a second before a high-pitched crunching sounded, signalling that Arthur had crushed it. 

"Shit, fuck, bollocks!" He shouted, throwing his own phone at the dashboard. He pulled over to the side of the road and pulled up the handbrake, smacking his hands against the steering wheel. He rummaged to pick up the phone again, quickly dialing another number and expecting this one to be picked up eventually, if he left it ringing for long enough at least.

 _"Hello?"_ Yusuf answered after the third ring. 

Well fuck. Yusuf never answered by the third ring.

"They've got you already?" He asked, not even bothering with the pleasantries.

Yusuf paused just long enough to give him the answer he needed before eventually speaking: _"There's no one here."_

"Yeah, sure. You want to ask no one what the hell they want?" 

_"There's no one here," Yusuf repeated._

Eames was fairly sure he growled down the line this time. "Well, you tell Mr No One that if I don't hear from him in the next five seconds I'm hanging up and they can kiss this trace goodbye."

Yusuf started to chuckle before the line went suspiciously quiet. Eames started counting, out loud. 

He got to five just as the phone clicked and another voice (male, American) came on the line.

_"Mr Eames?"_

"What do you want?" He pressed the phone between his ear and shoulder, freeing his hands as he checked the time on his wristwatch. He’d give them thirty seconds..

_"Your help."_

"You've got a funny way of asking."

_"I apologise for the method, but it's a matter of extreme urgency."_

Eames snorted his disbelief even as he considered the words and their ominous meaning. Just what exactly could be extreme enough for international authorities to bow down to the American government? Arthur was clearly in the states if the shouts of ‘ _FBI_ ’ were anything to go by. He knew Yusuf had been back home in Mombasa, the idiot was too predictable by far. And seeing that he was currently in the United Kingdom… the idea that there could be a worldwide manhunt currently going on for them was more than a little worrying. Moreso for the fact that they hadn’t known, that their only warning was a phonecall from a man they should have been able to trust. 

Right, _trust_. Eames snorted to himself before answering: “Something you FBI boys can’t fix yourselves, honestly I’m shocked.”

There was a pause on the line and Eames felt a momentary frisson of malicious glee. Yeah, that’s right. I know who you are. 

_“This is not a joke, Mr Eames.”_ The voice eventually replied in a clipped tone.

“And I’m not laughing. Now what do you want?”

_“Your particular skill set has been recommended to us.”_

Eames frowned. “And what particular skill set would that be?”

_“We know about your work with Mr Cobb. And the questionable legality of it.”_

“You’re trying to tell me the FBI wants to hire me for potentially illegal purposes?” He asked disbelievingly. Eames shook his head, chuckling to himself with the absurdity of it. “I don’t think so. And seeing as I'm not actually one of your countrymen, I don't give a shit about your matter of extreme urgency."

_"Do you care about your friends?" The voice asked, changing tact._

Eames grit his teeth. "I don't have any friends."

 _‘Eames-’_ Yusuf’s voice this time before he was abruptly silenced. Eames knew it wasn’t out of offence he spoke, realising that the guy on the phone had managed to keep him talking for longer than he perhaps should have.

 _"On the contrary, Mr Eames.’_ The man pressed on, _‘That you've already spoken with... three, out of the four names on our list would suggest otherwise."_

"Honour amongst thieves," he quipped, mind already racing. Arthur, Yusuf, presumably he meant Cobb too and if they were going after the Inception team that could only mean- he felt his blood run cold- Ariadne. The fucker had sold her out too. 

_"I see,"_ the voice on the other end said slowly. _"Still, we'd appreciate your cooperation. Theirs too. We hope they'll agree to the job once they hear the specifics."_

"You honestly expect me to believe the US Government is actually condoning… this?" 

_"We've run out of options, Mr Eames. Lives are at stake. Please consider it."_

"Maybe you should have considered asking instead of arresting us all first."

_"No charges will be pressed."_

Eames barked out a laugh and hung up. He pulled the car back onto the road and threw the phone out the window. 

 

It took just under an hour for him to reach Cardiff from Newport, with him avoiding the motorway and dumping the car in Tremorfa. He caught a late night train into Cardiff Bay and walked the rest of the way into town. Swiping a phone or two along the way was childsplay. People were so easily distracted by a charming smile and a bit of attention. So long as he didn’t use the English accent, of course.

The first call he made was from the inside of a Burger King just off Queen Street. He sat himself towards the back of the room, nearest the emergency exit. A tray of limp fries ignored on the table before him. The last occupant's scrunched up burger wrapper and spilt milkshake sharing the space beside his tray. He ignored the mess, and the fries, and prayed to God that he got at answer. It shouldn't be too early, but he couldn't be sure. 

The line connected. Eames held his breath.

 _"Hai?"_

"It's Eames." He answered to the abrupt answer.

 _"Mr Eames?"_ A momentary pause. _"This is unexpected, I must say. How did you get this number?"_

Eames smiled, hearing the amusement in Saito's voice. "We're very good at what we do." 

_"As I am aware. I assume this is not a social call?"_

"No. Call it a courtesy. Is this line secure?"

 _"What do you require, Mr Eames?"_ Saito asked instead, sounding bored. 

Eames took that as a yes. "Have you spoken with Cobb recently?"

 _"I cannot say that I have."_ Saito answered. Not that Eames had really expected any differently. If the man had the sort of clout to get Cobb off on murder 101, he could keep himself out of the hands of the US Government. It was frankly a surprise they'd managed to get ahold of him at all for the Cobol job. But Eames assumed that was more to do with Arthur's uncanny abilities than any lack of security on Saito's part. He also assumed that Saito had taken better precautions with his security since then.

"Well I have and either he's sold the rest of us out or he's being coerced into helping, but the rest of the team has been arrested by the American Government. I've confirmed Arthur and Yusuf myself, but it was implied that they had another one of us."

_"Ariadne?"_

"That's my guess."

_"Not very gentlemanly of Mr Cobb."_

"Not in the slightest."

_"Unless, as you say, he's being coerced."_

There was a commotion further down the room and Eames glanced towards the counter to see a couple of lads in football colours trying to kick off with the guy on the counter. Eames kept his eyes trained to a point beside them, watching them from his periphery, even as he tucked his shoulders in and slouched a little further into his seat. Trouble was the last thing he needed to attract right now. 

_"What do you require, Mr Eames?"_ Saito asked into his momentary silence. 

Eames grinned down the line. "You still got that airline?"

\- - -


End file.
